A Romantic (?) Evening

Posted on Fri Jan 23rd, 2026 @ 10:41pm by Lieutenant Commander Emni t'Nai & Lieutenant Tork

Mission: Port of Call
Location: Executive Officer's Quarters
Timeline: Mission Day 4 at 1900

Lieutenant Tork had finally received the call he'd been waiting for, even if he'd only just recently come out from within the bowels of the ship. The Ferengi had spent the majority of the day after his impromptu breakfast with his old acquaintance replacing parts and pieces of the ship with parts and pieces from his personal stash with the sole intent of keeping the ship from falling apart prior to arriving at their intended destination. He had, thus far, remained completely autonomous from the Engineering staff stationed on the Sojourner, opting to let the crew do what they felt best without the interference of a 'guest', regardless of how talented said guest thought himself to be.

Tork had stopped by his quarters just long enough to enjoy a momentary deluge from his makeshift shower before donning his casual yet still stylish (by Ferengi standards) off-duty attire before making the short trip from his quarters to those of the woman he'd promised to spend an evening dining with. Clutched in his hands, Tork carried a bottle of a rather interesting beverage that he hoped would put his soon to be diner partner in a good mood. His orange-hued finger reached out and stabbed at the door chime when he finally arrived before the threshold of her quarters, and the Ferengi waited with his usual devilish grin firmly affixed to his lips.

On the other side of the door the aforementioned acquaintance paced. "It's not a date," Emni told the otherwise empty room. "It's dinner. Dinner with an old friend. A good friend."

Despite knowing better her empathic sense was on high alert, each inkling of an approaching emotional fingerprint making her hesitate in her steps. Of course none were Tork. Tork never had, never would have, an emotional signature for her sense to recognize. Just like every other Ferengi. It was both enticing and infuriating rolled into one.

The day, despite the surprising events of the morning, had been long. Long and tiring, and when she'd finally stopped working she had just enough time to send Tork a message, hop in the shower, and pull on a flowing tunic in a deep blue over soft chocolate leggings.

And pace of course. There had been plenty of time to pace.

The sound of the door chime startled her out of her thoughts and she realized, belatedly, that it was Tork--the only person who could set off the door chime without registering as a fingerprint in her mind's eye.

"Come in," she called signaling to the door and the man on the other side, that he was welcome.

The Ferengi sauntered into the room with the confidence of... well... a Ferengi. He cast a quick glance around the room, less to size it up and more to get a feel for the current aesthetic his dinner companion found comfortable. When the space matched his somewhat fuzzy recollection of how her former dormitory space felt, at least the few things she'd been able to sprinkle around the otherwise spartan shared living space, he abandoned the search in favor of taking in the woman waiting inside the room.

"You look good in that," Tork said with a genuine tone of admiration for her appearance, "You always did have a good eye for clothes when you weren't sporting the uniform. Nice to see that hasn't changed."

Despite herself, Emni snorted. "You always did have an eye for what I was wearing... or... well... at some point you developed one."

The Ferengi strode over and handed the woman the bottle that he'd been holding, a cloth draped over it to obfuscate the contents of his gift, "Had that a while, just been sitting in a crate... fermenting. Always told myself I'd crack it open when an event called for it, but never found myself at an event I felt demanded it. And suddenly, on the other side of the galaxy, I find myself grateful to my past self for never settling for some mediocre nothing of an occasion."

The Romulan didn't need to unveil the gift to recognize it's shape. The heft was as familiar as the cylindrical shape that narrowed to a cone at the top underneath the covering. Her eyes widened and then, uncovering the bottle with care, she barked out a laugh. "I don't know what is more unlikely," she said, holding the bottle up to the light so that it glinted through the brilliant blue of the liquid. "You are here on the Sojourner having dinner with me when the sum total number of Starfleet personnel that isn't assigned to Pathfinder Station is certainly below 500... maybe even below 200 at this point in time..." She lowered the bottle, looking at the Ferengi with a mixture of put upon amusement and affection. "Or the fact that somehow Subrek failed to realize that the contents of the crates on your shuttle were probably worth as much or more than the technology he had his people strip off that shuttle."

"Well, if the contents were in the transporter pattern buffer the whole time, and I never said anything, the likelihood of that idiot finding out was less than zero. I'll concede that the Kazon are good at violence... maybe even better than a Klingon is, but smart they are not. I've met Pakled with more brains," the Ferengi chuckled as he flopped himself down in one of the few available chairs in the room.

"So, what's on the menu tonight? Drinks and some chitchat before dinner, maybe? Or are we going to feast first, wag out tongues later? I'll be honest, I don't have much of a preference either way, either direction we go, the company is the more important element, and I couldn't think of any I'd rather have on this side of the wormhole," Tork said with a toothy grin.

"Chili crab," she told him, gesturing to the couch with a tilt of her head. It had been a long time since she'd bothered with ceremony when spending time with Tork and she wasn't about to begin now as if they didn't have a history of helping each other through crises in their earlier lives. Something about sitting with a person through their worst moments negated the need for niceties even more than a decade later. "Hope you don't mind getting a bit messy. It's meant to be eaten with your hands."

Not waiting for Tork to sit she moved to a set of shelves inset next to the door to her bedroom and bent, opening a cabinet beneath the shelves and withdrawing two tall thin glasses. Though she'd had kali-fal in tumblers and look-a-likes plenty of times, even once in some kind of bowl that her host had insisted changed the mouth feel of the drink, she still preferred the traditional glasses. These were one of the few things she'd brought with her when she left Romulus--a small piece of home that she could take with her anywhere.

Returning to the couch she perched on the edge and set the glasses in front of her before unstoppering the bottle Tork had brought and tiliting it to pour, filling each glass halfway. As she poured a loud and inquisitive "prrrrrp?" sounded from the direction of the bedroom door which now stood open offering a glimpse of the bed and the edge of a small ritual space in the corner.

"Ah," Emni said, handing one of the glasses to Tork before she smiled fondly at the cat which had just made it's appearance. She patted her knee gently, her posture shifting to openness. A moment later the bundle of fur and claws hopped up between the two, sniffing Emni's proffered hand first before twisting her body in a distinctly feline way to inspect the Ferengi.

The Ferengi reached out and patted the feline on the head absentmindedly, "Chili crab, eh? Why do I feel like we had that somewhere before... Was it that trip to Louisiana? Or maybe it was when we went to one of the places on the Asian continent..."

Tork's brow furrowed as he struggled to pull out the memory from the deepest corners of his mind. He mulled it over for a few silent moments before shrugging and turning his attention back toward the woman, "Either way, eating with one's hands is something a Ferengi would never shy away from. I use these self-same hands to rummage through the bowels of this ship, a little sauce is hardly a challenge."

"You always were proud of that," Emni commented without a pause. "If I had a bar of latinum for every time you showed up to a tutoring session with something dusted or smeared on your hands or face I'd be richer than the Nagus."

She took over petting Kyi'i, shimmying back a bit until her back was against the corner where the couch's arm met it's back to make space for the cat on her lap. Kyi'i, however, was unimpressed by her offer, barely glancing her way and instead continuing to fix Tork with an unblinking evaluative stare.

"I think he likes you," she said. "Or he thinks you've come to threaten his person and he's standing guard. Cats are an odd species."

Tork shrugged at the suggestions, "Might just be waiting for me to offer him tribute. I've noticed that Terran cats treat their owners more like staff than family. Makes a Ferengi proud."

"So..." she said, swirling the brilliant blue alcohol in her glass, "a bottle of real Romulan kali-fal feels like it warrants a toast." She trailed off, eyebrows raised to give Tork the option to make it as the purveyor of the bottle if he so chose.

"I'll drink to that," the Ferengi said, lifting his own glass, "To our chance meeting in a turbolift, and the good times that serendipity brings."

"To serendipity," Emni agreed and lifted her glass toward his, lightly touching the rim against the glass he held before bringing it to her lips. She sipped slowly, savoring the weight and taste of the drink on her mouth. How long had it been since she'd had a vintage this old?

Tork drained a substantial amount of the beverage before lowering the glass from his lips, "A good vintage. Funny how I never really drank the stuff before I met you, and then you turned me into a kali-fal snob... I can tell a fake just by the sound it makes sloshing in the bottle."

"Spare me the flattery," she said with a smirk. "By the time I educated you on drinking kali-fal the original grain was nearly extinct and the rarity of the drink had skyrocketed. Tell me there's a Ferengi out there that wouldn't be attracted to such a profitable bottle?" A cloud passed over her expression as she spoke, the echo of a much older wound. "I still remember the first time we split a bottle. You were certain you'd drink me under the table."

"In my defense, I had never tried anything more potent than what hew-mons considered strong... and their sense for alcohol is... well... you know. But I did hold my own very well for the first bottle! It's that second one that gets you," Tork grumbled, though his easy going smile didn't falter.

"You're lucky I'm not one of those profit driven Ferengi," the man added, "or I wouldn't still have this bottle and the three others I managed to horde over the years. This one is the oldest of the group, though, so don't start pouting that I'm holding out on you. Though, if you do want to pout, I won't stop you, I do like that sulking face of yours just as much at any other face you make when no one else is watching you."

Emni's expression, once again, shifted toward put upon and, just for kicks she offered the Ferengi an over exaggerated pout. It was a childish impulse of the sort she hadn't given into for years and she had the self awareness to recognize it. How easy it was to fall back into old habits. Still, much had happened to them both since they'd last sat together over a bottle of some drink or another. And she had the feeling it would be a mistake to let the entire evening slip into nostalgia and reminiscing. "You're laying it on particularly thick this evening," she commented evenly, neutrality seeping into her tone though her eyes dropped to the glass in her hand rather than keeping his. "If I didn't know better I'd think you were trying to butter me up for a bit of mildly inebriated... ahem... interspecies antics."

"Nah, didn't come here for any oo-mox or anything," Tork said bluntly, looking Enmi in the eyes, "Just telling you how I feel in the moment. It was something I didn't do much of the last time we were together, and I've been kicking myself for it. And before you get offended, I'm not saying I'd never be amenable to oo-mox, it just wasn't why I came here or why I brought the kali-fal. I just genuinely missed 'us'. Spent the whole day stewing over how to maximize the time we do have together now that I knew you're here. Even toyed with the idea of calling in the one real favor I still have to see about making my stay a little less transient. And that led me to thinking... if we really can just... be 'us' again after all this time... maybe I don't need to horde that bargaining chip anymore..."

Us. She'd missed it too. The ease. The familiarity. The ability to just be. The infuriating way that Tork seemed to be able to read her mind just by paying attention to her expression. She never had managed to control her face with him as well as she could shield her emotions with Jori and Sulli. "A favor?" she prompted, taking another sip from her glass. She held it between her fingertips, delicately, as if she were holding something precious that needed to be handled with care.

She, too, had spent time considering how to make the most of 10 days. 10 days until they reached Pathfinder. Maybe a few more while they were docked there knowing that if Starfleet recalled Tork to the Alpha or Beta Quadrant then he'd have to wait for the aperture of the wormhole before he could return. She, however, had spent as much time considering the time they had as she had reminding herself that the time was short. That she shouldn't let herself slide too far back into their old familiarity.

That she didn't want to revisit the distance that had come up fast and seemingly from no where when they'd last seen each other.

"You can't just drop the idea of a single real favor owed without including the story behind such a thing. Calling in a favor to keep you here would be no small feat," she said. A spark of hope kindled in her all the same. Maybe. Just maybe. Then again... it had been a favor called in that had brought Karim back to the Sojourner. As her patient, yes, but still... he'd gone again quickly enough.

"It's not much of a story, at least from my perspective," the Ferengi said in a dismissive and disinterested tone, "Back on the first ship I served on, we got caught up in some sort of anomaly or whatever the hell it was, the whole ship is shaking apart from the distortion waves and all the senior officers are running around the ship trying to come up with a solution that wouldn't kill us in the process. I'm guessing the first three ideas were so bad that we almost did join the line for the Divine Treasury. So the Ops Officer and our Chief Engineer are standing around the system display down in Engineering, arguing over how to overengineer a fix that won't blow up half the ship to do it, and I finally got sick of them bitching about it and told them I could do it with some old parts I had stashed in my footlocker. Being the overly prideful hew-mons they were, both of them do that thing that hew-mons do when they hear something that wounds their egos..."

"The eye roll," spoken by both Tork an Emni at nearly the same time.

The Ferengi smirked before continuing, "Yep... even took the time to exaggerate it, so you know they weren't thrilled that some Ensign was making suggestions in a crisis. Well, you know me, if I hadn't let my family kill us all with bad engineering decisions for the first few decades of my life, I wasn't about to let some hew-mon and their fragile ego do it on my first tour in Starfleet. They tell me to shut up and do damage control while they think of real solutions, and I do what I do best... ignore them and fix it myself."

Tork paused, his face reflecting the sour feelings he'd had during the exchange before he continued.

"So I go grab the parts I need from my bunk, head to deflector control, and rig up a harmonic counter wave so that we can escape the storm and not fly into a dozen pieces while idiots argued. My old chief had the lobes to report me to the Executive Officer, who naturally calls me to his office to find out why Ensign Tork wasn't doing what he was told. By the end of the meeting, he's muttering to himself about me being an infuriating genius and tells me that on paper I'm in trouble but he owes me a favor and it had no expiration date. That Commander is now an Admiral working at Headquarters and I know for a fact he can push the paperwork I would need done to have my stay here made less... temporary. And given my status as missing until a few days ago, I'm at least fifty percent certain that my transfer is cancelled and I'll need to be reassigned anyway. Couple that with the fact that your ship just happens to need a new chief engineer, at least on paper..." the Ferengi again trailed off, though this time he took on a more contemplative look.

Emni listened as Tork explained the circumstance and the favor sipping slowly but steadily at the kali-fal. The drink was making her belly warm in the way that only good kali-fal could and as Tork spoke, Kyi'i had given up his inspection and curled up on the couch between them, back to the leg Emni had cocked to face Tork--one foot tucked beneath her opposite knee. She believed every word and also knew exactly why nearly anyone else might find the tale unbelievable. It was the same reason Tork had been assigned to tutor her through the engineering course she was failing even though he was a year behind her in the Academy. He got stuff done. Not always the way people wanted. But he did.

"From what I can tell just looking at that hew-mon you have filling in, he could do it if you foisted the job on him but he'd probably only end up stagnating with how short a time he's been an engineer. He hasn't really had enough time to figure out his style of leadership in an engine room beyond making it work in an emergency, and that's probably only going to get him so far before he has to face the reality that running an engine room like every day is an emergency will burn everyone out, not just him. Don't get me wrong, being able to get people through a crisis is a fine skill to have, but if that's your only tool... it become a hammer rather than a patch kit. But that's just my opinion as an outsider who doesn't really talk to the guy," Tork finished his rather long-winded explanation, taking the opportunity to finish off his drink now that he had completed his entire thought stream.

"Lieutenant Parsons," Emni commented. "If you plan to pull strings you'll need to know the name of your Assistant Chief." She, too, drained her glass, setting it on the table and dropping her had to absently run along Kyi'i' back as she spoke. Her comment wasn't a rebuke so much as unsolicited advice. Despite being off duty she felt the familiarity of "putting on" her XO hat. "He is young and we hadn't intended for him to be in charge of the department. He'd only barely made Assistant Chief when Subrek attacked. And Chief F'rar was also a new promotion. Granted with much more leadership experience. She was the natural pick when Lieutenant Olivera stepped down."

Beneath the slow stroking of her hand Kyi'i's rumbling purr sounded, reassuring and familiar as she worked through Tork's comments out loud. "I don't believe Mr. Parsons would like to stay in the chief's role either. For now at least. But don't rule out his ability to do it if forced. I've seen Mr. Parsons through quite a few crises and he's got quite a bit more steel to him than you might think on first glance. It might be a bumpy transition, but I think he'd find his way eventually."

She sighed, glancing down at the warm cat vibrating happily beneath her hand. His eyes were half closed and, as if he sensed being looked at, he lazily cocked his head up to stare back at her, blinking once. She shook her head. "He definitely likes you," she said, completely off topic for a moment. "I don't think Kyi'i was happy to sit like this even when Karim..."

She trailed off, cutting the thought short. Old habits did die hard, and her treatment of Karim fell into something closer to patient confidentiality than friendly discussion. That those lines were blurry didn't change the fact.

"So you'd like the job then?" she asked, bringing them back to the discussion at hand. "Keeping in mind that I would be your boss?"

"Not that much of a change from how we were at the Academy. You were a year ahead of me, after all. You were put in charge of no small number of group projects during our time together. Like old times, if it was anything at all," Tork said with a chortle, "And I'm not saying I don't want the job... but maybe I should see if I can even work with your engineers before I go making moves. So far, I've just been doing my own thing, and they've been doing... whatever they've been doing, I haven't actually looked into it. Not my department and all..."

"Do you want me to make an introduction for you or would you prefer the Tork method of showing up and commentating?" she asked, wryly pointing him back to a memory he'd surfaced that morning of their first ever meeting.

Shifting she leaned toward the table, returning both of their glasses to the midpoint and then sitting back again with hers. Kyi'i's protest was all of the sleepy annoyance that only a cat who has been disturbed can muster. He sidled sideways, not quite curling up against Tork, but spreading himself out so that only his back feet and twitching tail were touching Emni's leg when she returned to her earlier spot.

"I can talk to Captain Kodak if you like, too," she said. "Or I can stay out of it. Your call."

"You'd know better than I would which method would work better. I have a grasp of their abilities given what I've seen, but I know nothing about them personality wise. That was always your talent anyway, knowing people. I'm just the man with magnificent lobes that turns wrenches and keeps things from exploding. If you don't think my usual approach would work, I'm open to suggestions," the Ferengi said with a shrug.

"I'll need to think on that. It's..." she sighed, "harder to say exactly how Mr. Parsons or any of the other engineers would feel in this moment. They lost two of their own when Subrek hit the computer core. And, as you already know, Mr. Balsam was among those taken by the Maje. He and Mr. Parsons are roommates. All that to say... no one is at their best mentally right now, no matter how well they might carry out their duties."

"See," Tork pointed at Emni, "That's why feelings are your arena and not mine. Wouldn't have known any of that going in there. So yeah, have a think, not like I need to go in there tomorrow and fix anything if it isn't exactly broken just yet. I can just crawl around the tubes, fixing and replacing what these kids don't think is broken yet. Pretty good at that, if I do say so myself."

The affectionate, yet put upon, look returned. Emni's lips pursed and she raised both of her eyebrows at the Ferengi as if to say Really? but let the comment slide. "Hungry?" she asked instead, unfolding herself from the couch and stretching, kali-fal glass held high in one hand as she did.

"I'd eat whatever you made even if I wasn't," the Ferengi said as he pushed himself off the couch he'd been lounging on, "But as luck would have it, I forgot to eat lunch..."

"As usual" the pair said in another near perfect unison of thought.

"So I'm ready for this promised messy meal of yours. Though you might want to replicate another hand towel or two... just in case," Tork grinned.

----

"So then they assigned most of our crew to shore leave on Risa while they figured out what to do with us, but I had to return to Earth with Lenek so someone with far more experience in organ replacement surgery could hopefully save her. Most anxiety inducing, demoralizing, and alarming weeks..." the Romulan, one hand holding a crab claw which she was using to gesture for impact, cocked her head as if considering her claim, "... months? I don't know. It felt like an age and the amount of time still feels blurry to me. But that is how I got to perform surgery next to the infamous Nathan Cowell and... better yet... had a drink with him afterward."

With her free hand, Emni tugged at the loose bit of meat sticking from the claw, wiggling it until it was free of it's casing and popped in into her mouth, chewing appreciatively. Her fingers, despite the warning of mess, were only gravy-specked at the tips, the rest of her surprisingly immaculate considering that she'd just been gesticulated with one chili gravy covered claw.

Tipping the claw to look into the cavity of it's center she confirmed it was now empty of its meat and set it on a dish already littered with other crustacean exoskeletons. Daintily she dipped her fingers in a bowl set to the side of her plate, rubbing them together to loosen the bit of gravy on them and then wiping them on a larger than usual cloth napkin that was balled up from multiple finger drying events next to the bowl. Snagging a bit of the pita-like flatbread that had come with the crab meal, she scooped a bit of the chili gravy onto and popped it into her mouth.

"I'd always wanted to meet him, but never expected I'd actually get to save a life with him," she finished once she'd chewed and swallowed the morsel.

The Kali-fal was long gone by then and they'd switched to something of a lesser alcohol, though it paired well with the spice of the dish. "I should have seen if you were on Earth still when I was there," she added, fingers steadying the stem of her glass. "It just... Honestly wasn't sure what I would have even said. Hey Tork. Remember me? I've just lived through another terrifying crisis. Wanna talk about it?" She shook her head. "Just didn't seem fair to put any of that on you. And I still had Karim... Commander Karim, I mean, in my care through all of that."

"I wasn't. I haven't been back to Earth since the Academy. No reason to, really. It's a nice planet, sure, but I didn't leave anything behind there that I am so desperate to get back. I could probably say the same about Ferenginar, truthfully. I've only ever set foot on it a handful of times, and it never really felt like 'home' to me. That busted up freighter we all lived on was more of a home to me than some world my parents left behind before I was born," Tork said with a slightly somber note in his voice.

"Kind of interesting that you got to meet one of your... heroes? Can you really even call someone like that a hero? Sure, that old El-Aurian's been around for a long damn time and probably saved more lives than some civilizations have had years of existence... but I never really looked at him as anyone heroic. Maybe he'd say the same thing if you called him one to his face. Seems like the type to just do what he wants to, notoriety be damned," the Ferengi paused as he realized what he was saying, "Somehow I feel like I just described myself... Might actually have a better opinion of him than I thought."

Tork picked up another leg from the plate, crushing it in his deceptively small but powerful fingers as if the chitin was as fragile as an eggshell, "Did your patient live, at least?"

"Never said he was a hero," Emni corrected. "But Cowell is a legend in the world of Starfleet Medical. I heard a rumor once that he helped one of the Vulcan CinC's navigate Pon Farr while in hiding from an assassination attempt just before our Academy years. I mean... that's not everyday medical practice," she offered, none of her enthusiasm for the subject dimmed by Tork's assessment of Cowell. "History gets to decide if he's a hero. But legend... there's no disputing that."

She finished mopping gravy with the rest of her flatbread, holding it poised in her fingers as she came back around to Tork's question. "And yes. Lenek did live. Last I heard she'd been reunited with..." she paused, considering her words carefully as she studied Tork, "an old friend. You know?" Her eyebrows popped slightly to punctuate her point and she popped the bite she'd been holding into her mouth.

Tork couldn't help but chuckle at the similarities between her story and their current situation, "I suppose that's one of those 'odd coincidence' things I've heard Vulcans mutter about before. But hey, I'm not the type of Ferengi that would snub a gift from the Blessed Exchequer just because it isn't 'logical'."

Tork seized a bit of crab meat with his jagged teeth and pulled the entirety of it free from the chitin it had been encased in, wasting no time in making the perfectly steamed morsel disappear. This pattern was repeated several times before he spoke again.

"It is strange how things happen like that, you know? You'd swear our lives were the stuff of holodramas if not for the contents being so bizarre that they would sound like poorly contrived plots if they weren't true," the man couldn't help but laugh at his own observation.

"Truth does not require that it be believable," Emni quipped back archly, peering into the bowl of chili crab and selecting two legs . She set one on the small plate in front of her and lifted a small tined fork to pry at the spots where the exoskeleton appeared thinnest creating an almost surgical seam that she pried apart to reveal the sweet steaming middle. She pulled it free of its casing with her fork and popped it into her mouth.

She was pleased with the replicator recipe all things considered. It wasn't the same as sitting within sight of the South China Sea in the breezy humidity that had made strands of hair cling to her scalp. Romulus, unlike Vulcan, had plenty of temperature regions and humidity had never been her forte.

"Do you remember how full we were the first time we had this dish? The place was all but deserted when we got there. Just a few local folks dotted around tables and they brought out that first crab and I pointed out it was nearly as big as your lobes." The laugh bubbled out of her. Surprising her with it's speed and depth. "The look on your face. I thought for sure I'd insulted a venerated ancestor."

"You insulted a Ferengi's lobes..." Tork grumbled at the memory, "Though it was innocent enough from your perspective. It isn't as if it comes up in normal conversation much. Or maybe it does on Ferenginar, but then again... nude females are also popular on Ferenginar but it seems like we kept that quite for a lot longer than you'd expect given how other cultures reacted to that news."

"It wasn't an insult!" Emni exclaimed. They'd had this exact same argument at the time. "It was compliment. That crab was enormous. How was I supposed yo know you'd be insulted?"

She shook her head, lifting the crab leg that was still on her plate and wielding it in Tork's direction she pointed. "Besides that you countered by suggesting my ears were pointier than the end of these legs." As if to demonstrate she held the leg up to the side of her face just shy of her ear where it peaked out of her hair.

"It wasn't the comparison that was the problem, it was the creature you picked. A crab has no lobes to speak of... so naturally a Ferengi would assume you were drawing a comparison there, and not with the size of the creature as a whole. I'm pretty sure I explained that to you as well, after I'd made the leg comment, so you'd understand what I meant."

Emni sighed, returning the leg to her plate and popping her fingers into her mouth one at a time to remove the chili gravy. Her expression softened at the reminder though there was still a hint of amusement in her gaze. "I know," she agreed. "Pretty sure it was the first time I complimented your lobes though. Or tried to anyway. Not the first time you made note of the point of my ears, though." Her gaze dropped to her plate, a small smile on her lips.

"Yes, I realize that I may have been a bit blunt in my fascination with your own lobes, but I still maintain that it was not out of malice but genuine curiosity. I only really had my moogie and my sister to base most of my knowledge of females on before I left my family's ship for the Academy. How was I to know that most females don't care for comments about their lobes? One of the many cultural differences that made me realize just how vast the galaxy truly is," Tork remarked with a dismissive shrug.

"You are the first person to ever so thoroughly and eloquently describe the curve of my earlobe," she said. Almost unconsciously she brought a finger to the tip of her ear, pausing before smoothing a stray strand of hair behind it. She cleared her throat, dropping her hand and reaching for her glass only to find it empty. With a sigh she half stood, bending across the table to reach for the bottle. Finding it empty as well she huffed out a sound of annoyance and straightened.

"That won't do," she muttered and stepped away from the table. "Be right back," she said to Tork and then crossed the room to disappear into the bedroom.

"I know what that sound means..." Tork said with a slight cackle, his head shaking in amusement as he waited for the woman to reappear with whatever it was she had squirreled away in her bedroom.

A moment later Emni returned, a familiar cylinder topped with terraced cone in hand. "You're not the only one who can squirrel away old bottles of precious liquors," she announced teasingly as she crossed the room, stopping only to pat Kyi'i on the head and pick up their glasses from the coffee table.

With far less ceremony than the first bottle, Emni unstopped the container and poured, this time nearly filling each glass rather than stopping at the customary halfway point. "What did you say earlier? You can't think of a better reason to drink the good bottle?" She shrugged. "Neither can I."

"This is finals week all over again," the Ferengi chortled at the woman's enthusiasm for drinking, "Though neither of us have to wake up early tomorrow if we don't want to, so to hell with it."

"You don't," Emni corrected. "Some of us have a duty rotation to attend to." All the same she raised her glass. "To finals week." She toasted and then took a liberal swallow of the blue liquid. "If memory serves you slept at my place that night," she commented. There was a suggestion to her tone that implied something other than crashing on her door room couch. "Didn't want to walk back across campus."

"Three bottles in and you expected me to walk back?!" Tork complained loudly, "You're lucky I could form coherent thoughts after all that drinking we did. And aren't you the Executive Officer? Don't you approve duty rotations from the other departments? I doubt very seriously that one late morning would kill even you, madam punctuality incarnate."

One dark eyebrow arched pointedly. Emni lingered next to Tork, not sitting again and yet not moving to another location. "We have a small crew. Last minute changes to bridge command duties generally require a crisis. Besides... I'd have to explain this," here she gestured between them though what this was exactly was unclear, "to Captain Kodak. I'm not sure I'm ready to do that yet."

Perhaps it was the kali-fal that made her forthright or maybe it was simply the familiarity of the moment, but Emni's gaze stayed firmly on Tork, eyes holding something complicated for a long moment. "Still hungry or would you like to find someplace more comfortable?" she asked, breaking the longer than necessary quiet.

"I could use a place to stretch out, let the food settle," the Ferengi said, pushing himself away from the table and carrying his glass with him back to the couch. Tork set his drink down on the small table in front of the couch before sliding down onto the furnishing in an exaggerated manner, giving his stomach a firm pat. "You replicate a fine meal. I could tell you fiddled with the resolution settings like I taught you."

"Of course I did," she said, settling back into her earlier spot complete with one leg pulled up under her so she could angle herself toward Tork. "Could hardly do any less. You'd point it out in a heartbeat." She shook her head in amusement. "Not that I can let on that I have an inkling. I think it would give our engineers a heart attack to think that I had some idea of what to do with a spanner."

The engineer sitting next to her snorted, "Personally, I wish more people did. Would make damage control efforts so much easier if I could grab anyone in a corridor, throw a tool in their hand, and point them at something minor that needs fixing so I can focus on all the big stuff falling apart around our lobes. And anyway, I'm still shocked that Starfleet hasn't integrated the resolution fixes by now. I mean... yes..., it allows for the replication of not strictly authorized for replication on a starship substances... you could use it for nefarious purposes if you were a really motivated ne'er-do-well... but we both know those adjustments are strictly to give spices the kick they so rightly deserve."

As if on cue, Emni leaned slightly back and brought up her foot, nudging Tork's leg in a gentle approximation of a kick. When she got the reaction she was looking for she grinned and brought her drink to her lips feigning Innocence. "And you would never use them for unapproved replication," she said tone pitched to make it clear how very certain she was that he would do just that. "Besides, as a doctor I am obligated to point out that some of those settings are for crew safety to ensure no one accidentally poisons themselves."

Tork chuckled softly, grabbing his glass from the table and draining it in a smooth motion before returning the now empty vessel, "Illegal replication, no. But I can't claim I've never replicated something that I needed to in the heat of the moment that I had to explain after the fact because it contained things that were technically on the naughty list. Purely for self preservation purposes, of course."

The Ferengi slid back onto the couch and, without really thinking about it, wrapped his arm around Emni's shoulder and drew her against him, "Can't say I'm not a tiny bit jealous of the room you have here. A lot more space than what I have... especially since I like to keep all of my acquisitions close at hand in case I have... flashes of engineering brilliance."

If there had been a point at which Emni had intended to rebuff any kind of physical affection during the evening she had long since passed it. She was distantly aware that the ease with which they had both slid back into familiarity could prove problematic, but it was hard to deny how much she had missed this kind of easy connection. Even with Karim, where connection had come from sheer necessity, it hadn't been easy. Every ounce of trust had been a battle against Vulcan sensibilities and the intrusiveness of mental illness.

She sighed and shifted into him, adjusting to the curve of his arm around her shoulders. He was leaner than the last time they had sat like this, some of that the result of his captivity on Subrek's ship, but some simply the adjustment of age and work. It felt natural nonetheless. When she was settled she took a deep draught of her own drink, letting the liquid warmth of kali-fal do what it did best when they were moving into the second bottle of the night. "You'd have ever inch of this space covered with bits and pieces within a fortnight," she told him, musing on his comment. "But hoarding tendencies aside, yes, being the executive officer has its perks. Bigger living space. Nicer couch. Better bed..." she trailed off, realizing she sounded like she was bragging.

"If anyone deserved it," the Ferengi said, glancing over at the woman curled in his arms, "It'd be you." Tork reached for the side table that the bottle of half empty kali-fal and took a swig straight out of it. "The bed sounds nice, but I think I like it here on this couch right now. I have good ale, good company, a full belly... I've got enough to make even the Blessed Exchequer green with envy."

"I don't remember you being this sentimental the last time we drank like this," she answered. "Then again, I'm not sure I ever thought we would get to drink like this again." Another long draught from her drink made the warmth spread to her limbs, tingly and fuzzy in a dangerous way that reminded her that although she could hold her liquor perfectly well, she hadn't drank like this in years. Briefly she considered a quip about the bed -- an offhand teasing remark meant to needle, but even in the warm glowing hold of kali-fal she knew better.

Instead she shifted lightly again until she could more easily drop her head onto his shoulder. "The Blessed Exchequer would have something to say about my state of dress," she said dryly, aiming for distraction and wry humor. "Thankfully I don't answer to the Blessed Exchequer."

"I think he'd have more to say about the lack of latinum in my pockets before he commented on how much you were wearing," Tork couldn't help but laugh at the comment before taking another swig from the bottle that had been resting on his lap. "Though, with how warm it's getting in here, I'm tempted to indulge in that particular tradition for myself."

"That's the kali-fal talking. Very progressive of you," she teased, drawing out the name of the drink into a more pronounced Rihannsu accent. The last drops from her glass consumed she leaned forward tilting the glass with extended arm until she could tip it up to standing on the coffee table. "I can move too, you know. If you're too warm." Despite the claim she nestled back into the curve of his side, freeing the bottle from his hand and tipping back a mouthful.

"Probably just the kali-fal talking, like you said," the Ferengi said with a smirk as he gave the woman's body a squeeze. He liberated the bottle from the Romulan's grip and tipped it back, imbibing the rest of the liquid inside in a flourish. A satisfied sigh escaped him as he looked at the bottle and then to his companion, "Did they at least put a real shower in your quarters, or do I need to make the same modification to yours that I had to make on mine?"

"Normal shower," she answered wryly. "I have a water allotment just like everyone else." Testament to the effects of the alcohol it took her longer than usual to process the end of his sentence. "What do you mean like yours?"

She shifted, pulling slightly away so she could twist to look at him. "Tell me I'm not going to have to requisition a new shower stall when we get to Pathfinder."

"It's nothing I can't change back if I need to," Tork remarked, "I just can't use sonic showers anymore since the whole escape fiasco. It screwed something up with my inner ears and now being anywhere near a sonic shower causes actual pain. So I converted it into a replicator loop system that uses as much power as a sonic shower, but allows for a net positive replicator matter gain. Pretty ingenious if I do say so myself, and I can set it to 'Ferenginar monsoon season' and have a shower worth washing off in. I made a similar modification back at the Academy, though I didn't need to rig it up with a replicator since water wasn't scarce or anything. Just had to rig a pressurized pump that could spit the water hard enough. And anyway, how many times did you swing by to borrow it back then? So don't even start with that 'you should have cleared that with someone' crap."

If Emni heard the Ferengi's explanation and subsequent jibe about appropriate permissions, she was too busy levering herself out of the warm cocoon of Tork's arm to commentate. Instead she mumbled some incoherent sounds that confirmed she was still listening while she went to rummage through the cabinet to the left of her bedroom door. A moment later, she emerged clutching a medical tricorder which she flipped open, removing the small wand.

Carefully, considering that the kali-fal made her unsteady on her feet, she knelt next to Tork on the couch, sensor wand at the ready to trace the ridge of his closest lobe. "You've seen Dr. Marwol about this?" She asked, a concerned crease making itself known between her brows.

"Not the doctor specifically, one of the nursing staff looked at it, did a few things, then sent me on my way until they could do something more invasive. But I did get it looked at," Tork reached out and closed the tricorder the woman held, pulling it from her fingers and setting it on the table. "I appreciate the concern, but I didn't mention it just to flip your professional switch and have you fuss over me. It was just a bit of context. Now come here."

The Ferengi helped the Romulan back to her feet before seizing her by the waist and dragging her down onto the couch with him, though this time he'd ensured that Emni landed on his lap and in his arms rather than beside him. When they both finally came to rest, their faces were mere millimeters from one another, his soft brown eyes staring into her as if he were the one who could peer into others' souls. "I'd much rather fuss over you for a change," Tork said in something akin to a whisper, his forehead gently pressing against hers to eliminate the distance that each of them had subconsciously tried to maintain when the evening started.

Emni's eyes fluttered shut and she drew in a deep breath. Her brain still insisted that there was doctoring she should be doing. But a louder part of her brain--the part that was suddenly aware of proximity, and touch, of ease and familiarity--wanted to give up control and be the one cared for.

"Tork," she breathed. His name carried all the weight of knowing someone so thoroughly that a word could convey depth and breadth. Uncertainty. Worry. Relief. Comfort. Acceptance, in the moment if nothing else.

"Emni," came the quiet but still somehow firm reply from the Ferengi's lips before they found themselves pressed against hers, and everything seemed to melt away around the two...

----

Tork groaned as his muddled consciousness gradually and grudgingly solidified into coherent thought and purpose of movement. A screeching sound became distinguishable to him, causing him no small amount of discomfort as he glanced around and realized that he wasn't in his own quarters but Emni's. It took another moment for him to process that he was laying rather oddly across not a bed, but a piece of furniture that only worked as such in a pinch or when circumstances required it to do so... the couch. After that revelation, a far more important discovery was made... His arms were curled around a warm body that was not his own, and said body was far less covered than he had recalled it being.

"Em..." the man groaned out her name as he shifted uncomfortably, his body in full protest of not only his intake of alcoholic beverages but his choice of sleeping arrangements. "Something in your bedroom is screaming... I think it's your alarm..."

The screaming was, in fact, an alarm, but to Emni's ears it was less screaming and more a loud and insistent chime. "Computer, end," she sniped groggily at the air stopping the sound and blanketing the room in silence. The space between the points of her ears throbbed insistently as if her head could substitute as an alarm in its own right. Still not fully awake, she shifted, looking for purchase to right herself only for her hands to find skin where she excepted clothe; muscle where she expected furniture.

Eyes snapping open she twisted to look at Tork who, by her evaluation, was wearing significantly less clothing than he had been. "Tork?" she asked, eyes wide as a moment later the cool of air brushing her own skin registered and she instinctively thrust one arm across her chest.

The hammer of pain in her head struck insistently as she tried to piece together the blur of the night prior, but before she could do so the significance of the alarm finally landed and she scrambled off of the couch in a rush.

"Shit," she spat. "Computer, time."

The brutal neutrality of the computer's voice informed her of the time resulting in a fresh string of curses, this time in colorful Rihannsu, as she whirled and made a beeline for the bedroom.

"Haven't heard those words in a while..." the Ferengi muttered before calling after Emni, "You're late, aren't you?" The string of expletives continued, prompting the man's bulbous head to nod in understanding, "Yup... she overslept." For his part, Tork languidly stretched on the couch he was still sort of halfway hanging off of, trying to work some of the pain out of his weary muscles with mixed results. It took him a few extra moments to realize that he was not respectably attired and went about a much more relaxed process of correcting that.

"Should we grab a late lunch later, Em?" the man called into the space between himself and the Romulan scrambling to get ready for her shift.

The harried form of Emni emerged from the bedroom clad in duty uniform sans boots and commbadge. The aforementioned boots were tucked under her arm and the commbadge was held gently between her lips while she rapidly ran a brush through long dark hair in an attempt to undo the extra knots that had formed due to the less than ideal sleep arrangement.

Unceremoniously dumping the boots on the floor she took the commbadge from her mouth, one free hand still tugging at the ends of her hair with a brush. "I usually eat in my office," she explained, "and yes. I'm late. Or I will be in approximately 3 minutes."

Deciding that the hair was as good as it was going to get she dropped the brush onto the small table and quickly affixed her commbadge to her chest as she moved toward the replicator.

"Two doses soberol," she informed the replicator. "Reference medical record t'Nai, Emni i'Rizz for first dosage and..." she turned to glance at Tork, eyes narrowing, "the other for a Ferengi male, 125 lbs. And a cup of coffee, cream, two sugars. Do you want a cup?" she asked, giving her hurried instructions enough pause for Tork to include his own beverage of choice.

"Nah, I'm just going to sleep it off in my quarters. I don't have anywhere to be this morning... or today... so I think I'll just enjoy a leisurely day. But thanks for asking," Tork declined as he finally sat up and slowly wobbled to his feet.

Emni nodded, waited the few seconds for the replicator to work and then snagged the two vials from the space, leaving the coffee behind. From the location she had unearthed a medical tricorder the night before she pulled a hypospray, popping the first of the two vials in and pressing it to her neck, the spray releasing a barely audible hiss of confirmation that it was doing its job.

The relief from the piercing pain in her head was palpable and she sighed, feeling tension that she hadn't even realized was tugging at her start to melt away as the pain dissipated. Seconds still ticked along, however, and she was already removing the old vial and inserting the new as she moved in Tork's direction. "Hold still," she told him, waiting for him to make the requisite adjustment so she could apply the hypo to his neck as well.

Tork craned his neck and turned away just slightly to move his obstructive lobes out of her way.

Hypos dispensed of she sat, pulling on her boots with a rapidity that defied the effort boots required and was back on her feet and advancing on the coffee in the replicator with the depleted hypo vials in hand as if this were a perfectly normal thing to add to her rapidly sped up morning routine.

"Umm... you don't have to rush..." she said, pausing as she realized she was about to walk out of her quarters and leave Tork there. "Just be nice to Kyi'i. He likes ear skritches."

"Don't we all," the Ferengi said with a chuckle, "I think I'll still head to my quarters though. I need a nice shower to help work out a few cramps in my back. I'm sure the feline will appreciate a little quiet time to lounge and nap without me around. Have a good shift, Em. I still might stop by later for that late lunch." The wink that followed his statement was as good as telling her it wasn't just a 'might'.

Despite herself Emni felt the flush across the back of her neck and up to her ears that signaled a blush. She stood there another moment, giving up precious seconds to the space between mortification and delight where reason had held sway the day before. She opened her mouth, then closed it, seeming to think better of whatever it was that she was about to say. Instead, she lifted her coffee mug to her mouth, took a long sip, and swallowed.

"Ok," she said. "I'll see you later. Sleep well." And then she was out the door already formulating a palatable explanation for her tardiness should she need one.

---
A post brought to you by nostalgia and kali-fal by:

Lieutenant Commander Emni t'Nai
Executive Officer

Lieutenant Tork
Engineer - Unassigned